


Thank You

by Selena_Guardi



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-07
Updated: 2014-12-18
Packaged: 2018-02-20 07:15:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 13,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2419829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Selena_Guardi/pseuds/Selena_Guardi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock finds himself far out of his comfort zone one day entering St Bart's lab to start yet another ludicrous experiment just to find a crying Molly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Anytime, Molly Hooper.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first ever Sherlolly fanfic. I didn't intend it to have more chapters than this one but it somehow developed into more. I hope you like it! :)

  
"I need a liver, a kidney and preferably one of those eyeballs I put in the fridge last week. I mean, if they are still there. Sometimes your colleagues throw my experiments out. They might be doing it on purpose. Especially that Linda girl, I got a distinct feeling that she doesn't like me. Although I was so nice to point out that her experiment was going nowhere. Saved her precious time and ..."

Laden with test tubes, a bunsen burner and his notebook Sherlock turned around to see why Molly wasn't answering.

He had been thinking his experiment over in his head when he burst into the lab and didn't even notice her sitting at one of the tables in the corner crouching over a letter. Nor did he notice the silent tears that ran down her face when he had rushed through the room collecting materials everywhere. Frozen he stood for a moment weighing up his options in silence. There was too much emotion included in this situation to make him feel comfortable but then again it was Molly who was emotional. Molly Hooper, who as far as Sherlock was concerned, was his friend. John would have been good with these things, but he wasn't here to help.

  
Quietly setting down his equipment Sherlock moved over to Molly and cleared his throat.  
  
"Are you alright? Molly?"  
  
"Yeah, sure. I'm ok.", Molly replied after wiping her eyes with the back of her hand.  
  
"So what was that again, a liver, a kidney and one of the eyeballs from the fridge?"

Molly got up and walked to the cool box where they stored the organs. She didn't seem "ok" to him. Molly seemed genuinely upset and although Sherlock couldn't explain why, this was making him feel upset as well. Following her through the lab he kept a close watch on her, looking for clues as to why she was in such a mess.  
  
"Are you sure that you are ok? You don't seem to be."  
  
Sherlock already braced himself for a "That's none of your business! Stop analyzing me!" speech because that was what he usually got for pointing out that something wasn't right with her. Like that time he noticed that her engagement wasn't going as planned or that stupid one-night stand didn't call her back or when she got stood up by an old school friend. Nobody seemed to appreciate Sherlock's concern really, although he had thought that people always wanted him to care.  
  
This time was different though. There was no speech, no fury, there was no leave-me-alone, no mind-your-own-business. Just Molly's back turned towards him while she was staring into the fridge.  
  
With a sigh she slammed it shut and turned around. Her cheeks were reddened and her eyes puffed up with tears. Her gaze found his for a second before she stared at the space just left of his shoulder.

"It really is nothing.", she murmured.  
  
"Yes, I can clearly see that. Nothing, beside your swollen teary eyes with dark rings under them, your bitten nails and your dishevelled ponytail. If I had to deduce anything from that, I clearly would say -"  
  
"No Sherlock, don't. Not today."  
  
She didn't shout, she wasn't angry, it had sounded more like a plea, uttered quietly.  
  
"I'm sorry. Is there anything I can do?"  
  
"It's not your fault. It's just been one of the worst days of my life and I just..."  
  
A new flow of tears interrupted her sentence and she turned around embarrassed.  
  
"I mean, what did I do to deserve this? I'm a good person. Why always me?", she blurted out between sobs.  
  
"That letter I was reading? The institute decided to stop funding my experiment on cell decay! I have been working on this for the last two years and now I only have until the end of the month to find a new sponsor. And when I called Michael earlier. Well, you don't know Michael but well, we have been on a few dates and I thought we were going somewhere. I didn't want to tell anybody before I knew it was working out."

Still shaking with sobs she turned around to look if Sherlock seemed to be offended by her not telling him.  
  
"I kind of figured that out.", he said with a shrug but managed to repress the smug smile that would have followed in any other situation.  
  
"Oh, so you did know.", Molly replied, confusion taking over her face for a second.  
  
"But anyway, Mister I'm such an important business man didn't feel like coming over. He didn't have the time. He asked me to understand. And the worst thing about this? It didn't even surprise me. Because that's just so me, picking the wrong guy again. The one that leaves me when everything falls to pieces, when I really would have needed him. And now I'm a sobbing babbling mess and you came here to do an experiment and not to listen to my failures...."  
  
Once again crying uncontrollably she hid her face in her hands.  
  
If Sherlock had felt uncomfortable before it was nothing compared to what he felt now. This clearly wasn't his field of expertise. He generally disliked people who cried, it was a silly expression of sentiment. If he had the choice he would always leave a room where somebody was crying. But standing in front of Molly Hooper who was so clearly in pain, he didn't feel that urge to bolt and run. He quite definitely felt the urge to find that Michael and punch him, but that would have to wait until later. Without knowing exactly what he was doing, he took one big step forward and pulled Molly close to him. She seemed to be just as surprised about this as Sherlock but settled into his embrace without a word, burying her face in his shirt.  
  
Sherlock felt like they were standing like this for quite a while until Molly gradually got calmer and stopped shaking. Her arms were wrapped around his waist under his coat and he felt the warmth of her body against his. How small she was in his arms, his head easily resting upon hers. The smell coming from her hair was starting to confuse him and he suddenly felt very aware of his hand resting on the back of her neck. How did he end up holding Molly Hooper in a tight embrace? When did he let his brain be taken over by these chemicals? And why did this feel so right? He couldn’t bear his mother’s hugs for more than 10 seconds (he had timed it once) but letting go of Molly was the last thing he wanted to do. Still absorbed in his thoughts Sherlock didn’t notice that Molly had stopped crying at last. Being quite embarrassed by her breakdown again she didn’t dare to look up.  
  
Instead she mumbled a soft “Thank you.” into his shirt.  
  
“Anytime, Molly Hooper.”, Sherlock replied and although she couldn’t see his face he found himself smiling from ear to ear.  
  
He pulled her, if that was even possible, still closer to him and she began to absent-mindedly draw infinity signs on his back. Mustering up all the courage he had, he placed a light kiss on the top of her head before saying:  
  
“If you ask me, that Michael bloke is a complete idiot.”  
  
And although Molly didn’t look up and he couldn’t see her face, he could have sworn that he felt her smile against his chest.


	2. I'm fine, John.

John was sitting in his armchair the newspaper on his lap when he heard the front door click and steps on the stairs. It wasn’t as late as he had expected Sherlock to come back from the lab but with the British media insisting on being utterly boring he was looking forward to some company. Even if it was Sherlock, who didn’t say a word at times and was probably still too absorbed in his experiment to acknowledge him.

“How did your experiment with Molly go?”, he asked over his shoulder as Sherlock entered the kitchen.  
  
“Mh? My experiment with Molly? I didn’t ...”, Sherlock replied more defensive than this innocent question deserved.

“The experiment you had planned?”, John repeated with his eyebrows raised.  
  
John folded up the paper, got up and walked into the kitchen for another cup of tea.  
  
“Wasn’t that why you went to St. Bart’s in the first place? Or did you go somewhere else after all?”  
  
Sherlock was acting suspiciously and although this wasn’t an unusual occurrence John tried to figure out why. Pouring hot water into his mug he observed his best friend from the corner of his eye, nearly burning himself with spilled water in the process. He didn’t have his friend’s observational skills and although he tried to use Sherlock’s deducing methods time again and again, he just wasn’t good at it. But that Sherlock standing next to him, looking out of the window absorbed in his mind palace seemed different than the one who had left just a few hours ago. There was something odd but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it.  
  
“So did you go to St. Bart’s? For your experiment?”, he tried again.  
  
With a sudden jerk, Sherlock turned around and looked at John as if he hadn’t even noticed him before. If John had been talking to any other person he might have been worried or at least a bit curious but as he was dealing with Sherlock and a similar incident just happened this morning there was nothing too out of the ordinary about this.  
  
“Oh,... John. Erm, yes, I went to St. Bart’s. The experiment didn’t work out, I have to repeat it some other time.”, Sherlock replied. “I might try again tomorrow. Is there still some hot water left?”  
  
John handed the kettle over and sat down at the kitchen table adding a splash of milk to his tea. He closely watched Sherlock filling his own cup in silence.  
  
“So, was Molly still in? Was she able to help you with your study?”  
  
“Why would Molly help me?”, Sherlock retorted.

“Well, because she has helped you with your stuff before. I didn’t mean that you _needed_ help, Sherlock.”  
  
John had put on an apologetical tone although he didn’t really know what he had to apologize for. His friend was definitely acting stranger than normal and now he really wanted to know the reason behind this.  
  
“Are you ok? You are acting weirder than usual and we’re talking about you, so I didn’t think that was possible.”  
  
For a moment Sherlock looked like being caught out doing something he shouldn’t. Like a child standing on a chair on tiptoe trying to reach the candy on the top shelf. The next instance his features went back to normal but John hadn’t missed it.  
  
“I’m fine, John. Thanks for your concern.”  
  
There was definitely something going on and John wasn’t going to stop until he found out what. But knowing his friend there was no use in asking further questions. If he got an answer it would be as much a riddle to him as no answer at all. Sherlock liked to keep his secrets. John would have to pry the information out of him bit by bit.  
  
“Ok, just checking.”, he said with a smirk and shrug before returning to his armchair.  
  
John resumed reading the article he had abandoned before and Sherlock settled down in his chair. Not really taking in the words John watched Sherlock over the rim of his newspaper. The detective had put his hands under his chin, fingers outstretched and gazed into space, his thinking position. Once again John tried to make sense of the evidence he had gathered. Sherlock was defensive, evasive and somehow deeply concerned with some sort of problem. He hadn’t seen him act this strange for a long time, not since they had dealt with _the woman_. But that had been ages ago and Irene Adler was dead or, if Sherlock had bought into Mycroft’s story, in a witness protection program in the US. Surely, she couldn’t be back, this time she was really gone for good.  He simply didn’t have enough information to get to the bottom of this. He had to observe Sherlock over the next few days and patiently wait until he let something slip.  
  
Giving up on his article John emptied his mug, stretched and got up.  
  
“I’m heading to bed. It was quite a long day.”  
  
Sherlock’s reply was just a murmur and dismissive wave of his hand. John’s “Goodnight.” didn’t even reach his ears anymore; he was already deeply in his thoughts again.  
  


* * *

Coming downstairs the next morning, still in his pyjamas, his bare feet on the cold wooden steps, John expected a kitchen full of new experimental designs. He expected a downright mess and maybe even a head in the fridge. But the kitchen was exactly the way he had left it the night before and so was Sherlock: still sitting stoically in his armchair, chin propped up and staring into nothingness. John looked over to his friend shook his head and started the coffee machine with a yawn. With the coffee slowly dripping into the pot he sat down in his comfy chair.  
  
“Don’t tell me you have been sitting here all night. Don’t you need sleep?”, he asked rubbing his eyes.

“I don’t require sleep, John. You should know that.”, Sherlock replied.  
  
He didn’t sound sleepy and he didn’t look tired either. He sat in his chair motionless but a sharp look in his eyes like a hawk waiting for his prey.  
  
“I honestly don’t understand how you can do this? You didn’t sleep at all?”  
  
“Nope.”  
  
“One day somebody should study you. I for once am not completely convinced that you’re even human.”

“I suggested that as an undergraduate project to my professor once. He didn’t think it suitable.”  
  
“And why am I not surprised about this...”, John replied once again shaking his head in disbelieve.  
  
“So anyway, I will make myself some breakfast. Do you want some, Sherlock? Or is eating one of the things you don’t _require_ , too?”

“Nope. Can’t. I’ve got an appointment.”, Sherlock explained already getting his coat on.  
  
He was out the door before John could even enquire after this ominous appointment and when he would be back.


	3. You helped me when I needed you.

When Molly came in to work that morning Sherlock was already sitting at his desk in the lab looking through a microscope. A faintly blue liquid was simmering over a flame next to him. He seemed completely focused on his work and didn’t look up when she entered the room. Walking slowly around the lab over to her desk she watched his concentrated profile. The eyebrows pulled together in a determined frown, staring into the bright microscope. She couldn’t help but smile and decided to not disturb him with any sort of greeting. Once Sherlock was in his mind palace it was better to leave it that way. He didn’t care much for those little courtesies anyway and it was a perfect excuse for her to not talk to him just yet. Last night’s teary episode was still too vivid in her memory for her to be reminded of it. She felt incredibly embarrassed and preferred to push any thoughts of it to the back of her mind.

Although that wasn’t an easy task. As much as she tried to forget that she actually had had a crying fit at work _and_ in front of Sherlock, her mind kept drifting back to that moment when he had pulled her into his embrace. How she had ended up in Sherlock Holmes’s arms was still a mystery to her but she could recall every detail from his hand gently resting on the back of her neck to the smell of his shirt. Forcing herself back into reality, she took a folder from her bag and looked for yesterday’s notes on her desk. A letter she didn’t recognize was lying on the top of her papers and having a quick look over it she realized that it was some kind of application form.

Putting down her coat and bag she sat down on her chair to study the letter. A sudden movement at the edge of her vision distracted her though and she looked up just to see Sherlock look back into his microscope.

“Do you know who put this letter on my desk, Sherlock?”, Molly asked with raised brows.

Without looking up from his work Sherlock replied casually “I have no idea what you are talking about. If somebody left something on your desk while I was here I didn’t notice.”

“Are you sure? It looks like an application for government research funding.”

She got up, the letter still in her hand and moved over to his table. She had to hold it under his nose to make him stop his work.

“Mh,” he said glancing at it briefly, “it seems your guess was right. This definitely is an application for government research funding.”

Shoving the piece of paper out of his way, he adjusted the heat underneath the liquid and then looked back into the microscope.

“Ok, so as my first guess was right. What do you say, why don’t I give another one a try?”

“Be my guest.”, Sherlock replied without looking up.

“Good. Let’s see, this is an application for research funding. Something I terribly need at the moment. As it was left on my desk, somebody who has access to Bart’s hospital and this lab must have put it there. Although security isn’t the best in this place, there are some doors to go through until you can get inside this lab that only open with a personal security card. Keeping that in mind we can narrow down our list of suspects to a relatively short list. Half of them can be eliminated because they are working the late shift today which doesn’t start until 4 in the afternoon. Of course, they could have come in early but it seems highly unlikely. How am I doing so far?”, Molly asked with a cheapish smirk on her face.

“Quite good.”, Sherlock mumbled still deeply concentrated on his experiment. Or at least, as Molly suspected, pretending to be.

“Of course, now I could have a closer look at all of them individually and find the one person that might show that much concern for my problems based on past experiences. But there is one factor I didn’t take into account yet, and it might be the most important one to solve this puzzle. So far I have only told two people and my cat Toby, but that doesn’t count, about me losing funding. Judging by Michael’s reaction yesterday it seems improbable that he would try to help me, let alone break into Bart’s to do so. This leads me to my final deduction which is that the only person that could have placed that application on my desk is in this very room right now.”

With a satisfied smile, she saw Sherlock’s jaw clench for a moment.

“Am I right, Mr. Holmes?”

Giving up on his sherade, he pulled his chair back, stood up and finally looked at Molly. Hesitating a moment, he gave her a little nod.

“Very good, Doctor Hooper. You are completely right.”, he admitted.

The smile on Molly’s face grew even wider and she crossed her arms in front of her chest triumphantly. Of course, she had made the connection the moment he had denied knowing about the letter, but laying all the evidence out in front of him had felt even better than she had anticipated. That was what it must feel like to be Sherlock Holmes, explaining the - at least for him - obvious to the people around him. She had beaten him with his own weapons.

“Although…”, Sherlock started with that familiar look on his face, he usually gave Anderson or Donovan after they shared their opinions on a case.

“…solely concentrating on the source of the letter made you overlook the far more important facts concerning this application.”

With a quick movement he snatched the letter from her hand and held it out in front of her face.

“This is an application form for government funding usually reserved for military and warfare research which can be easily deduced from the stated department in the top right corner. Following the bureaucratic mandatory introductory text at the top, boring, one can clearly see that among other facts a name, organization, required budget and estimated research duration are to be filled in.”

Explaining all this he pointed at the mentioned fields on the form that Molly could keep track of his train of thought.

“So far there seems to be nothing out of the ordinary here. Until we get to the bottom of the form.”, Sherlock said making a little pause to give his next sentence more emphasis. “If you had spent less time on your silly deductions as to where this came from you might have noticed that it is already pre-approved.”

Feeling like he had come out of this conversation having the upper hand, he handed the form back to Molly who still stared at the bottom of the page in disbelief.

“Pre-approved? As in: I will get whatever I fill in at the top?”

“Well, not exactly, I bet there are some restrictions, even on government funding. Although they are known to spend their money quite carelessly, I’m sure even their resources aren’t endless. But basically, yes.”

“But how is that possible? Isn’t there a whole board to review applications like this before they are approved. Is that even legal?”

“Just because something is illegal, it isn’t impossible. You should know that.”

“But, Sherlock, how did you get this? I mean, I can’t accept this.”

“Of course you can and you will. It’s the perfect solution for your problem. Sometimes it’s handy to have a bigger brother that basically _is_ the British government, especially when said brother backed out of a family dinner without notice and therefore owed me a favour. It only took one short phone call.”, Sherlock explained with a dismissive wave of his hand.

That, of course, wasn’t entirely true. In fact, it had taken a visit to his brother’s office and a lot more explaining, than Sherlock had planned, for his brother to agree to this little stunt. That and a theatre performance he had to take his parents to next week. Not to mention the look Mycroft had given him whenever he had talked about Molly. Being in his brother’s presence sometimes still made him feel like the little unknowing boy he once had been, inferior to his older brother both in experience and knowledge. Though he would never admit it to anyone, he knew that Mycroft understood him far better than anybody else and could sometimes read his thoughts as if they were written on Sherlock’s forehead. Another reason, he had wanted to keep this morning’s appointment as quick and brief as possible. It was better for Mycroft to not know the full extent of Sherlock’s motives if he wanted to avoid future mockery on the subject.

And, of course, Molly didn’t need to know the whole story either. His explanation seemed sufficient enough. Sherlock had tried to sound as indifferent as possible but couldn’t repress a smug smile. Being rather proud of his little plan, he slightly propped his chin up and folded his arms behind his back, patiently waiting for her reply.

“Ok, let’s assume I take this money.”

“Which you will.”, he stated matter-of-factly.

“This would mean, I can continue my research and as I can appoint the duration of the study myself, I won’t have to worry about the funding running out someday?”

“Correct.”

“So all my problems are gone?”, she said still not able to believe it.

“This would be the logical outcome, yes.”

“But why… why would you do something like this for me?”

“Well, you seemed to be… a bit… distressed yesterday.”, he explained and Molly instantly looked at her hands while feeling the familiar warmth in her cheeks.

“You…er… needed help and you are my… friend. Friends help each other, don’t they?”, he asked trying to catch her gaze again.

After a short silence he added: “You helped me when I needed you.”

This made her look up at him again and he instantly regretted the way he had phrased the sentence. He could have ended it by saying that he had needed her help and not _her_ , but it was too late for that now. And yet, seeing that sweet smile spread on her face and the optimistic spark return to her eyes, made him feel good.

And he felt even better when Molly thrust forward abandoning all restrains and flinging her arms around his neck in a big hug while continually saying thank you. He didn’t let himself give into the temptation to return the embrace but couldn’t help but take in the scent of her hair. Realizing that she might have overdone showing her gratitude, Molly was just about to release Sherlock when she heard a cough behind her.

“I’m sorry, I just wanted to see if Sherlock was here.”, John said clearing his throat. “Which you obviously are.”

Immediately letting go of Sherlock, Molly whirled around and turned yet a deeper shade of red. She didn’t know how to explain this situation to John and to her surprise Sherlock for once seemed lost for words as well.

“Apparently you are, er… busy at the moment. I didn’t mean to disturb anything.”

“It’s not what it looks like. I just thanked Sherlock for…” Molly blurted out but trailed off midsentence.

She didn’t know what it had looked liked and she couldn’t really explain the incident without telling John about last evening as well. And that was something she definitely didn’t want to do. Straightening up a bit and smoothing down her blouse she quickly turned around to Sherlock.

“Once again thank you.”, she said with an earnest face and walked away quickly, past John and through the open door into the corridor. She was determined to not stop walking until she found an empty bathroom she could lock herself into or better yet a hole in the ground she could vanish in to escape this embarrassing moment.

“Care to explain this?”, John asked as Molly was out of hearing distance.

But all he got was a short “Nope.” as Sherlock returned to his seat and started working again.

“Is this what happens when you’re at Bart’s and I’m not around? You cuddling with Molly?”

“As you so brilliantly observed, John, I am very busy. So could you please keep those little stupid ideas of yours to yourself? Thank you.”

And with that he returned to his mind palace where none of John’s further inquiries could reach him anymore. Staring through the microscope he tried to focus on the sample in front of him but all he could do was think about Molly’s arms wrapped around his neck, the sweet smell of her hair and her leaning onto him as she lost her balance because she had to stand on tiptoe to hug him. And suddenly memories from last night came back to him as well, memories he didn’t store in his mind palace on purpose but couldn’t seem to let go: Her tiny body against his and her fingers tracing signs on his back, Molly smiling into his chest and her warm smooth skin. And although he didn’t like that he had no control over these thoughts and when they came back to him, he had to admit that they made him feel good and without him noticing he began to smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is the last chapter for now. I don't know where to take this next yet but I will definitely work on another chapter soon.


	4. Didn't you hear her?

It was just quarter past three when Sherlock picked up his coat and scarf two days later preparing to leave 221B. If he took a cab to St Bart’s he would be there around half past three, exactly one and a half hours into Molly’s shift. Not too early to make it look like he was timing his visit intentionally to meet her but not so late that she would be leaving soon either. Not that he was timing his visit at all or at least that was what he kept telling himself. He simply preferred to work in the afternoon, having Molly around would just be a lucky coincidence. He certainly hadn’t memorised her work schedule on purpose, although it had come in handy during past cases to know when he could actually expect a friendly welcome at the morgue.

He didn’t have any cases and had spent the morning composing a beautiful new waltz, repeating bits and pieces so many times that even John got annoyed and suggested that he’d put down the violin for a bit. John had taken the day off, feeling like he was on the verge of a cold and preferring to not be the doctor that actually spread diseases instead of curing them. On top, this gave him the opportunity to watch Sherlock and gather more information about what he secretly called the _Molly incident_. Not only was he incredibly curious if there was more behind it than what he had witnessed at Bart’s but also he knew that as soon as Mary would return from her one week wellness trip to Scotland she would want to know all about it. He could already hear her telling him off for not paying enough attention. _You lived there and you still failed to notice that your best friend has finally realised his interest in the woman who has been pining over him for years? Which has been quite obvious to mostly everybody around him expect himself... and you maybe. I’m gone for one week and I miss out on everything just because you are such a bad spy._ No, he wouldn’t let that happen.

John was just enjoying a cup of tea and some biscuits that Mrs Hudson had brought up earlier when Sherlock jumped up from his chair with a sudden burst of energy.

“Good God, Sherlock, you nearly made me spill my tea. What are you doing?”

“Going out for a bit.”

“Anywhere in particular?”, John asked with raised eyebrows watching his friend put on his belstaff.

“Bart’s. I should continue my experiment.”

“Experiment, eh? When I suggested that this morning, you didn’t seem too fond of the idea.”

“Well, I changed my mind.”

“If that’s what you say. And I guess you don’t want me to accompany you?”

“Oh, don’t be silly, John. You said yourself that you were feeling ill and it’s not like I require any help. It’s just an experiment. You take the rest you deserve.” And he offered him what was probably supposed to look like a sympathetic smile before disappearing through the door and dashing downstairs.

John only smiled and shook his head in disbelief. Did Sherlock really think that he was that stupid?

* * *

Walking down the familiar hallway Sherlock couldn’t help but check if the collar of his coat was turned up. _Seriously, Sherlock? He heard John’s voice mock him in his mind. Turning up your collar to look mysterious? - Shut up._

Approaching the glass doors he heard voices coming from the morgue and slowed down his pace a bit. Peaking inside he saw Molly working on a body on one of the clean steel tables talking to a man in an expensive looking suit. They both had their backs to Sherlock which gave him the possibility to watch them for the time being.

“Oh come on, babe. I said I was sorry.”

“You disappointed me, Michael. Just saying sorry won’t make it up this time.”

“But isn’t everything ok now again? Surely, you just overreacted a bit on Monday. I mean, it can’t have been that much of a problem when it resolved that quickly.”

Sherlock didn’t like the tone that Michael was talking in, like he was superior to Molly. He knew that sort of men just too well. Rich parents, spoiled all his life, never had to work hard for anything and now he had a management position in daddy’s company. Molly just silently leaned over the body and continued her work.

“Oh, don’t be like that.”, Michael drawled on.

“How about you take the afternoon off and I’ll make it up to you?”, he asked sweetly and encircled Molly’s waist from behind her.

“I can’t just take the afternoon off. I have work to finish.”, she replied coldly and pushed him away with her elbows.

But Michael didn’t let himself be defeated that easily. Grabbing her at the waist he turned Molly around and tucked a lose strand of hair behind her ear.

“It’s not like this dead guy is going anywhere, babe. He will still be here tomorrow, I on the other hand won’t.”, he purred a smug smile spreading on his face.

“I said no.”, Molly answered and tried to escape his embrace.

“But you meant yes, didn’t you? Come on, admit it spending the afternoon with me sounds pretty good.”, he said and started to lean down to kiss her.

“Didn’t you hear her? She said no.”

Definitely surprised at the sudden interruption, Michael looked up at Sherlock in confusion and Molly took this chance to finally push herself away. Standing a few feet away she looked back and forth between the two men staring each other down.

“And you are?”, Michael asked in a challenging way.

Molly could see Sherlock’s jaw clench as he inhaled sharply. Seeing the anger in his eyes she felt like she had to intervene before anything happened.

“That is Sherlock,... Sherlock Holmes. We work together occasionally.”, she explained and then turned to Sherlock with a warm smile and tried to sound as casual as possible.

“Are you here to continue your experiment? If you need anything, I’ll be upstairs in a minute.”

Trying to push Michael towards the door she added “Michael was actually just leaving.”

She was desperate to separate the two men as quickly as possible. The tension in the room was almost palpable. As Michael started to protest to being kicked out so suddenly, Sherlock stepped in between them and gently pushed Molly back while grabbing Michael around the shoulder.

“Why don’t I show you the way out. St Bart’s is quite a big complex building after all and we wouldn’t want you to get lost, would we?”, he asked in the most fake polite voice Molly had ever heard.

Helplessly she could only look on as Sherlock shoved Michael out the door and down the corridor to the elevator.

Once the elevator doors were closed Michael let out an exasperated sigh and took out his mobile.

“Women.”, he said shaking his head slightly. “Can’t make up their mind, right? One moment they want you, the other they’re acting all coy and-“

But he couldn’t finish his sentence as Sherlock had stopped the elevator and pinned him to the wall with one arm pressed to his chest making it temporarily hard to breathe.

“You will leave her alone. You don’t call her, you don’t come to Bart’s, you don’t visit her at her flat. Is that understood?”, Sherlock growled through clenched teeth.

“Look man, I didn’t mean to invade your territory or anything. We were just having a bit of fun.”

“I don’t care what you were having. You don’t deserve her and you will leave her alone. And if you don’t, you will have to deal with me!”, Sherlock spit out.

“Is that understood?”

“Yeah... yes, sure. Whatever you say, mate.”

With one last disgusted look Sherlock released Michael and turned the elevator on again. As soon as the doors opened on ground level Michael hurried outside and basically sprinted to the exit. Still slightly fuming, Sherlock walked off in the opposite direction towards the little coffee stand.

“One coffee, black, two sugars, please, and one large latte.”

* * *

When he came back into the morgue carrying two steaming cups, Molly was already working on the body again. She preferred to keep her mind busy rather than thinking about what had just happened.

“I thought you might like a coffee.”, Sherlock said quietly and set one cup down on her desk.

Molly didn’t look up but stopped her scalpel for a moment.

“You know, he wasn’t like that when I first met him.”, she started her eyes still fixed on the dead body on the table.

“But I guess you were right. He is a complete idiot. Thank you for stepping in like that.”

“It was my pleasure... really, it was.”

After a few moments of silence passed and Molly still didn’t look up, Sherlock walked back to the door.

“I’ll be upstairs in the lab then.”

“Yeah, I just have to finish poor Jimmy here and then I will probably head upstairs as well. I still have some paper work to do.”, Molly replied already cutting through flesh again.

With the door handle in his hand Sherlock turned back once again.

“Just promise me one thing, Molly?”

Surprised she looked up and met his gaze with a questioning look.

“Don’t call him ever again, ok?”

And for the first time in her life Molly saw something in Sherlock’s face she had never seen before, a deep and sincere concern for her. And right in that moment Molly realised something she would never have believed possible: Sherlock Holmes cared about her. The thought made her heart jump ever so slightly and she felt a warm feeling spread in her stomach. And despite everything that had happened today she couldn’t help but start to smile.

“I promise.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's how you get rid of an idiot boyfriend that is quite obviously a complete jerk. Having Sherlock confront Michael in this chapter was actually rainy5982 's suggestion and as I was a bit stuck with this story, I wanted to give you a big THANK YOU for that. Now I feel like I can build further chapters from this point. :)


	5. Shutting people out doesn’t make you stronger.

Molly kept her promise, not particularly because she had told Sherlock she would, she simply had no desire to contact Michael. The more she thought about it the less she understood what she had seen in him in the first place. That he didn’t call her on the other hand did surprise her a bit. The little incident at the hospital had probably hurt his ego too much and now he had lost interest. Whatever it was, Molly was glad that this toxic relationship was finally over and she could get on with her life.

Over the next couple of days Sherlock dropped in at Bart’s unannounced more than usual asking for spare body parts or simply wanting to assist in some of the more interesting post mortems. As Mary had returned from her trip and therefore John’s visit at Baker Street had come to an end, Molly wasn’t that surprised to see him nearly daily. Even though Sherlock would never admit it, she suspected him feeling a bit lonely at his place again. Even Sherlock Holmes needed company from time to time. What was really out of the ordinary was the amount of attention he paid to her. Although she was used to getting the odd compliment when he wanted a favour this time his behaviour seemed different. He listened intently when she spoke, asked for her opinion on some of his cases and when she was working a late shift he brought coffee. Sherlock Holmes bringing _her_ coffee. And not just that, he actually remembered how she liked it.

* * *

“Coffee?”, Sherlock asked carefully setting one of the take-away paper cups down on a pile of sheets on her desk.

With a start Molly looked up from her report.

“You really have to announce yourself when you come into a room! One day you will give me a heart attack, creeping up on me like that.”, she said lifting the plastic lid off the cup and taking in the nice aroma.

“But thank you, that’s exactly what I need right now.”

The cup in hand she stood up and walked over to his table where he was already setting up a microscope and some samples.

“What are you working on today, still those plant and earth samples from northern London?”, she asked while cautiously taking a sip from the hot coffee.

“Yes, I need to catalogue them all to have a working referencing system in the future. It will prove very helpful in upcoming cas-“

“This coffee tastes amazing.”, she interrupted him. “This is clearly not hospital coffee, where did you get this?”

“The little cafe on Queens Head Passage.”

“You mean Tempi Med? I love this place!”, Molly exclaimed taking another sip from the tasty latte.

Sherlock only gave her a sideways glance while switching the microscope on and bringing the first sample in place.

“I know.”, he said already staring into the bright light, a faint smile on his face.

* * *

Maybe he thought that she was still a bit fragile after her break-up and losing the university money and was therefore on his best behaviour. No matter what had brought on the change in his attitude Molly was determined to make the most of it and enjoy it while it lasted. Sure enough, he would soon return to his old moody self absorbed state.

In a way, this made working with Sherlock much easier although she found herself blushing involuntarily quite often when he once again forgot about personal boundaries leaning in to have a look at a corpse or standing far too close to her while observing her work. But Molly gradually got used to having him around most of the time. They had developed a good work routine, complementing each other with their respective fields of expertise. She helped him seek through a pile of evidence Lestrade had brought in from a recent series of bank robberies and he was allowed to assist on the autopsy of a rather gruesome looking water corpse. And Molly genuinely enjoyed every minute of it.

One morning when Sherlock had just solved one of the more complicated mysteries and was texting Lestrade his conclusion and further instructions, Molly felt confident enough to do something she had already thought about for the last days. He seemed genuinely happy, now was as good a time as she could get.

“Sherlock?”, she started gingerly walking over to his table.

“Well, wasn’t that an interesting case! Let’s hope the next one is just as good.”, he said putting his phone on the table and jumping up while rubbing his hands together, a satisfied grin on his face.

“Sherlock?”, she tried again gathering up all her courage.

The detective turned around to face her with a questioning look and a short “Mh?”

“I was wondering... if... after the arrest, maybe ... you would like to get lunch, or something.”

For a moment Sherlock looked confused, processing what she had just said.

“To, you know, celebrate you solving the case?”, she added quickly.

She braced herself for his answer; she didn’t really expect him to take her up on her offer although part of her still wished longingly that he would.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t.”, Sherlock replied with an apologetic expression.

He saw how Molly’s face instantly fell, the disappointment so clearly written in her features that it nearly made him wince.

“Oh,... ok.”

“It’s not that I don’t want to. I just have already plans for lunch.”

“No, no, that’s alright. It’s no big deal.”, Molly mumbled trying to sound as casual as possible.

With drooping shoulders she turned around and was about to walk back to her desk when Sherlock stopped her at her arm.

“My parents are visiting.”, he started to explain. “I promised to pick them up at the station for lunch. Believe me, there’s nothing I wouldn’t do to escape it but I can’t back out now.”

“Your parents?”

Although she had met his brother several times, Molly had never imagined Sherlock to have parents. Somehow the idea that Sherlock had once been a little child surrounded by a caring family seemed so alien to her, that she had never really given it any thought. _Sherlock’s parents_.

“It must be nice to have them visit.”, she said already in a much more cheerful way.

“I wouldn’t put it like that exactly. But they are only here for the day, so there’s a silver lining on the horizon.”

“You make it sound like they are terrible.”, Molly said with a chuckle and gave him a smack on the arm “I bet they are just lovely.”

“Well, you haven’t met them. “, Sherlock sighed and started walking around the room.

“This will be one of the worst afternoons of my life.”

“Now you’re just exaggerating, Sherlock. What can be so bad about one afternoon with your parents?”

“My mother insisted on going to see a Musical, one of those productions at the West End. Apparently you **have** to see it. What was its name... Matilda.”

“Matilda? Oh, I wanted to go see that for ages. I loved the film. It’s a story about this little girl who is incredibly clever but her parents don’t support her at all, and she loves to read and...it’s just lovely.”

“Lovely.”, he repeated but made it sound like it was the most disgusting word in the world.

“Just give it a try, you might be surprised. Maybe you end up liking it.”

“Highly unlikely.”, Sherlock replied with a grimace.

Molly walked over to him and picked up his coat and scarf on the way.

“Well, then if worse comes to worse and it really is as unbearable as you expect, I’ll let you do some experiments on the water corpse tomorrow.”, she offered and handing him his things, she pushed him to the door.

“ Just try to be nice to your parents, ok?“

* * *

“Oh there it is. Look at that theatre, isn’t it beautiful?”, Sherlock’s mother shouted back over her shoulder pointing to the theatre at the end of the road while pushing through the crowds on the pavement.

Sherlock was trudging along behind his parents his hands buried deep in his coat pockets.

“Could you hurry up a bit, Sherlock? We don’t want to be late.”

“We still have plenty of time, Mummy.”, he retorted and rolled his eyes.

“If we miss anything because of you, I will hold you responsible, young man!”, she threatened him with a raised finger and pulled him along at his sleeve.

But of course, they weren’t late. In fact they were one of the first to arrive at the theatre.

“I told you, Mummy.”

“Well, now we have enough time to get some drinks and visit the restroom before it starts. And stop pouting, Sherlock, it will get you nowhere.”

“I just don’t understand how a story about a little girl being incredibly clever and loving books can possibly fill over two hours. And why in God’s name do they have to sing?”

“Oh, look at that, you actually looked up what the musical is about.”, Sherlock’s mother chirped and gave him a warm smile.

“No, I didn’t. Molly told me about it toda-“

Sherlock bit his lip as soon as he saw the expression change on his mother’s face. Even his father, who so far had seemed only vaguely interested in the conversation, looked up from the programme curiously.

“Molly? A friend of yours?”, she enquired instantly with raised eyebrows.

“Yes.”

“A **special** friend?”

“Well, actually a colleague, we sometimes work with each other.”, Sherlock explained and looked to the side.

Sherlock’s mother didn’t ask any further questions but cradled her son’s cheek for a moment with a knowing smile.

“It’s not what you think. We are just friends.”

“I didn’t say anything. Did I say anything?”, she asked and turned to her husband for confirmation who just shook his head.

“My Sherlock, finally finding a girl.”, she said and looked up at him lovingly.

“Mummy!”, Sherlock sighed pleadingly before running a hand over his face.

“Alright, I will stop.  But let me say just one thing. If there is a woman who can actually work with you and endure your behaviour and still calls you a friend, you better treat her as nice as you can and make sure to never let her go. Heaven knows, I didn’t think a girl like that actually exists.”

And with that she disappeared in the direction of the ladies’ room. Sherlock let out an annoyed sigh. This evening was going to be even worse than he had thought.

* * *

Three agonizing hours later, they were standing back on the station platform saying their goodbyes. Sherlock’s mother reached up to her son and gave him a kiss on the cheek before getting on the train.

“And don’t you forget to call, Sherlock.”, she told him and stepped into the next compartment.

“You know, she worries.”, his father said. “And about that girl.”, he started but Sherlock shot him a warning look.

“No, hear me out. Your mother is only mocking you, but she means well. We only want you to be happy. And I know, that you always looked up to your bigger brother and tried to be more like him. I guess we always knew you two were special. But when it comes to this I think he got the wrong end of the stick. There’s nothing wrong in wanting to be with somebody, Sherlock, to have somebody to rely on. In fact, it can be the most precious gift in the world.” He looked briefly over his shoulder to where his wife had just disappeared before continuing. “So, what I’m saying is, if you really like this girl, you should simply show her how much you care. Shutting people out doesn’t make you stronger.”

They heard the train conductor’s whistle and with a pat on Sherlock’s shoulder his father stepped onto the train and was gone the next moment.

Sherlock watched the train leave the station for a while before turning around and making his way home. He didn’t believe that he was still influenced by his parents, he had stopped listening to them by the time he was 13 but his father’s speech stuck with him. Without even realising what he was doing he fetched his mobile from his coat and started a new text.

I ADMIT THE STORY WAS HALF DECENT. FOR A LITTLE GIRL MATILDA DEFINITELY IS EXCEPTIONALLY SMART. THAT HOWEVER DIDN’T HELP OVER THE FACT THAT THEY WERE DANCING AND SINGING ALL OF THE TIME. BETTER HAVE THAT WATER CORPSE READY TOMORROW. -SH

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I struggled with this chapter quite a lot. Somehow it didn't seem to be willing to be turned into a fluid smooth story. I hope you enjoyed it anyway and liked how I weaved his parents into it. I already have some nice plans for the next chapter ;)


	6. Mary will be thrilled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry. I know I didn't update in forever. Real life just got incredibly busy and when I finally had some time to sit down and try to write I didn't have enough concentration left. But here it is, the next chapter. Enjoy!

"So you've been busy with cases lately?"

"Nope, nothing interesting. Seems like the criminal class has decided to take a collective holiday. It's infuriating."

John was sitting across Sherlock in his old chair a cup of tea in his hand. He hadn't spoken with Sherlock for a while. Between Mary getting further along in her pregnancy and his work he hadn't had the time to check in on his best friend. But with Mary's friend Julia visiting tonight he had seen a chance to drop in at Baker Street after work.

"Oh, Mrs Hudson just told me you were barely at home lately. Always dashing about, coming home in the middle of the night." John said mimicking her voice.

"Mh. I'm just running a few experiments to pass the time. You know what happens when my mind gets bored." Sherlock explained with a shrug.

"Yeah, and we wouldn't want that." John chuckled glancing over to the smiley face Sherlock had shot into the wall once.

"So, you're not extremely busy at the moment? Because the doctor told Mary to stop work for now and rest more and of course she wasn't happy about that. She's only been home for one week so far and already bored out of her mind. So, she wants you to come over for dinner sometime."

"Dinner? John, you know I barely ea-"

"Sherlock, please. You like Mary, don't you? And she can't leave the house for the time being and it's driving her mad. It's nothing formal, you just come over and have a nice evening and help me keep my wife entertained. And you said you don't have any cases."

Sherlock let out a sigh and John knew he had persuaded his friend. Or to phrase it better even Sherlock couldn't come up with a logical reason why he couldn't come. Although nice family dinners weren't something he generally liked, the Watsons definitely weren't an ordinary family and he always enjoyed both John's and Mary's company.

"Great." John said finishing his tea and standing up. "Does tomorrow work for you? At 7?"

"Yes." Sherlock replied with a dismissive wave of his hand.

"Mary will be thrilled."

"Whatever you say."

* * *

At 7 pm sharp the next evening the door bell rang at the Watsons' house and John rushed to open the door.  He was quite surprised to find a rather good humoured Sherlock handing him a box of chocolates and flowers.

"Oh, erm, thank you, I guess." he said eyeing the gifts suspiciously.

"I was informed that you bring a present when you are invited for dinner. The most popular option seems to be a bottle of wine but considering Mary's pregnancy I thought chocolates would be more appreciated."

"Oh definitely! But with her cravings I bet I won't get a bite of this." John said and held up the box before adding quietly "But don't you tell her I said that!"

When they entered the kitchen Mary looked up from her cooking and smiled at them warmly. Her belly had grown a considerable amount since the last time Sherlock had seen her and she looked a bit tired though genuinely happy.

"Look what Sherlock brought!" John told her holding up the presents.

"You brought us gifts?" Mary asked one eyebrow raised at Sherlock.

"Why are you two so surprised, I thought this was an established custom?" Sherlock retorted rolling his eyes.

"Well, yes it is." Mary answered taking the flowers and putting them into a vase. "But you don't exactly have a track record of sticking to established customs or even acknowledging them as it is."

"I bet Mrs Hudson made you buy them." John declared and nudged his best friend with his elbow.

"Actually Molly did." Sherlock replied with a frown.

"Molly?" Mary echoed and gave Sherlock a meaningful look. "You've been spending quite a lot of time with Molly, haven't you?" she teased him a big smile on her face.

Before Sherlock could answer though, Mary was distracted by her husband who had tried to sneakily steal a bit of food behind her back. Hitting his hand playfully she shooed John away from the frying pan.

"Don't you dare touch this! I didn't cook all afternoon for you to ruin anything last minute. The chicken should be done in about five minutes." Picking up some plates and cutlery she shoved them into his hands and manoeuvred him out of the kitchen. "Make yourself useful and prepare the dining room."

Glad to escape Mary's questions Sherlock followed John into the adjoining dining room and helped him setting the table.

"She was so excited to have you over today. I hope you are hungry, there's probably enough food to feed a football team."

Sherlock only nodded absentmindedly while looking at his phone.

"Oh no, Sherlock. Don't you dare run off on a case!" he cried and shot him a warning look.

"Mh?" was all Sherlock replied looking up from his mobile confused.

"You're not going to skip this dinner. Mary will kill you." John told him again and considering his own words added. "And we both know she easily could."

"I wasn't going to 'run off', John." Sherlock explained rolling his eyes and making quotation marks in the air. "I was simply reading a text. You seem to be unreasonably on edge today."

"Sorry, it's just... this whole Mary-having-to-take-it-slow thing just doesn't work very well." He looked briefly over his shoulder before continuing in a hushed voice. "Basically, she hates it. She is bored out of her mind, she hates that she can't work anymore, that she shouldn't leave the house. And I can't blame her; I would be just as annoyed if I was put under house arrest. I just want this evening to go well."

As it turned out John actually had no reason to worry and gradually forgot about it as the evening proceeded. Sherlock despite still being, well, Sherlock was on his best behaviour, complementing Mary's cooking and making a genuine effort to be communicative. Mary was enjoying every bit of information or story Sherlock had to tell and John could already see her mood getting better. They had just started with dessert and Sherlock was recollecting a minor case he had taken on two weeks ago when his phone buzzed and he stopped for a moment reading the new message. As John saw the familiar smile spread on his best friend's face, his heart sank instantly. Everything was going so well.

"New case?" he inquired not able to hide the strain in his voice.

He expected Sherlock to jump up the next second, grab his coat and scarf and be out the door throwing himself into a new case. And the so welcome distraction for Mary would come to an abrupt halt.

But to John's surprise Sherlock just typed a short reply, sent it and locked the screen of his phone again adding a short "Nope." before resuming his story.

"...so I had tracked down the whereabouts of the ex girlfriend. That really wasn't that difficult, I had found her within one hour with a bit of help from my homeless network. And after explaining to her that my client was actually prepared to pay double the value of the ring she still had in her possession she was quite eager to cooperate. A complete amateur could have done that. I really wouldn't have bothered with it in the first place but I was incredibly bored that day and I think you can understand that problem, Mary. I had actually hoped it might turn into something more interesting but well, these cases barely..."

Once again Sherlock was distracted by his phone buzzing on the table.

"... ever ... do." he finished his sentence eagerly taking in the new text. With another smirk on his face he sent a quick reply and looked up apologetically at the Watsons who by now were eyeing him suspiciously.

"So if that's not a case..." John started "who keeps texting you?"

"Oh, nobody. It's nothing important." Sherlock replied a bit too quickly putting the mobile into his pocket instead of returning it to the table. "Sorry."

John just kept staring at his friend with both eye brows raised. He knew Sherlock was up to something and he wasn't going to let it drop. In the short moment of silence the three of them heard the now muffled buzz of the phone again.

"Somebody seems to want your attention, Sherlock." Mary teased him a way too big smile on her face.

Sherlock didn't like the way Mary was looking at him. The glow in her eyes and her tone implied that she already suspected who was texting him and he didn't want to know what she was reading into it. He was sure John had told her about the little incident at Bart's already and he definitely didn't dare to imagine what stories and explanations Mary had come up with during her recent confinement. Suddenly the evening's dinner invitation didn't seem so innocent anymore either. After all Mary was always able to see through Sherlock faster than John had ever done.

"Well, I'm a very busy man." he answered putting on a serious face. "I have to admit I owe most of it to John's blog. People seem to take more interest in his silly little stories than one might imagine."

"Excuse me, my silly little stories made you famous in the first place. And it's not my fault that nobody feels the need to read about 400 different types of tobacco ash!" John exclaimed between two mouthfuls of chocolate mousse.

"534." Sherlock corrected him.

"Well, doesn't change the fact that it's still completely boring." John grumbled.

Sherlock couldn't repress a small smile as he raised his own spoon of dessert to his mouth. He was glad that his little diversion had worked and the conversation focus was now off his texts. John went on to list some of the more interesting cases they had got through his website and actually pulled out his own phone to check the current number of visitors on his blog.

After they had finished their dessert and Mary started to look a more tired by the minute Sherlock felt it was time to leave. Once again thanking Mary for her cooking and the nice evening he gave her a quick kiss on the cheek and said his goodbyes.

When John returned from the hallway Mary had started despite obviously being exhausted to clear away the dishes.

"No, no. I'll do that. You did enough today already."

John taking the little dessert bowls off her he shoved her back towards her chair. Being too tired to protest Mary complied and let herself sink back down.

"I didn't think he would behave so well." John called out from the kitchen. "But it was quite a nice evening after all, wasn’t it?"

"Well, I guess somebody is having a good influence on him." Mary remarked.

"What do you mean somebody's having a good influence on him?" John asked as he returned.

"Oh, nothing." Mary replied a little knowing smile on her face.

Sometimes she couldn’t believe how much John actually missed. He had lived for two years with the great Sherlock Holmes but somehow none of his observational skills had rubbed off on John. Of course, the changes in Sherlock’s behaviour had been subtle but for somebody who knew him as well as they did they had to be quite obvious. Not only did he seem to be much more attentive and helpful but all the stories he had told this evening had a different ring to them as well. She was used to Sherlock elaborate on his cases, explaining his deductions in detail to let them understand. But those narratives usually only had one protagonist in them and that had been Sherlock. Now all stories seemed to either start or end with Molly. Everything was revolving around Bart’s and Mary suspected that Sherlock - even if only subconsciously - dismissed more cases than usual because that meant spending more time on experiments at the hospital. The whole evening had proven what she had hoped ever since John had told her about the little cuddling scene at the lab he had run into.

Nevertheless, John hadn’t completely picked up on it yet. She couldn’t blame him though, even Sherlock didn’t seem aware of his changed attitude towards his favourite pathologist. Sometimes men were just blind and the two she had to deal with were extraordinary specimen. She decided not to tell John about her suspicions for now. She liked him still being a bit clueless; after all he always made the cutest faces when he was confused. She would let John get there by himself. Still Mary was incredibly curious how this situation would develop and made a mental note to call Molly some time during the next few days. Reaching for John’s hand to pull her up she tried to repress a yawn.

“Time for bed then. Maybe Doctor Adison was right after all...” she admitted waddling towards the stairs.

“I’ll just clean up the kitchen a bit more and then I’ll come right up.” John told her pressing a quick kiss to her cheek.

“Thank you. And John!” she said between two yawns turning around on the stairs once again.  
“Yes, it was a lovely evening.”


	7. You're brilliant, Molly Hooper.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here is a new chapter, this time a lot quicker than the last update. :) And I kind of have the next chapter roughly planned already as well, so you might not have to wait long for that either. Just a quick warning, I wanted to take this story down a bit more exciting path and in order to get some suspense into it this chapter is a bit different than the previous ones.

It was Saturday morning when John got a text from Sherlock summoning him to Bart’s hospital for a new case. Having nothing better to do, he promised Mary to be careful - and more importantly bring back an interesting story - and took a cab to St Bart’s. He found Sherlock standing in front of the main gates a disgruntled look on his face.

“What’s the matter? I thought you had a new case, shouldn’t you be happy?”

“It’s not the case, Lestrade is being unnecessarily stubborn.” Sherlock explained as they went inside and walked towards the elevators.

“He just called to inform me that they finally knew where the bank robbers are hiding out that they were looking for over the last weeks. They are going to make the arrest today, sweeping out the whole place.”

“I know I will regret asking, but why exactly does that make you angry?”

“He wouldn’t wait for me. Without me and Molly they wouldn’t even have enough evidence to find them, we provided them with all the information to track down their location.”

“Then why are you not with Lestrade now?” John asked with raised eyebrows.

“Because Molly said she had a really promising case and even I can’t be at two locations at the same time. And I wanted Lestrade to push the arrest back a couple of hours but it seems that was _too much to ask_.” Sherlock grumbled as they approached the morgue’s doors.

“Well, I mean Greg doesn’t have to include you in any cases, Sherlock. And he did call you. Just because you’re too busy, doesn’t mean Scotland Yard has to alter their schedules for you. And it’s just a case.”

“What’s just a case?” Molly inquired having heard the last few sentences.

“Oh Sherlock was just complaining about how he isn’t included in the bank robbers’ arrest.” John said rolling his eyes.

“Oh, but that doesn’t sound fair, you basically solved that one for them. Greg had no clue where to look before he consulted Sherlock.” Molly replied and Sherlock shot John a complacent I-told-you-so look before smiling at Molly. Raising his hands in mock surrender John said:

“Ok, ok. Greg is completely out of line.”

Shaking his head in disbelieve John tried to change the subject.

“Sherlock said you had a promising new case?”

“Oh yes.” Molly answered and fetched a case folder from her desk. “David Marhem, 43, found dead in his flat in Shoreditch just this morning. I thought you might like this one.”

Handing the file to Sherlock she led them over to one of the steel tables where David Marhem was lying. John couldn’t find anything out of the ordinary about the dead man: slightly overweight, receding hair line and he smelled faintly of tobacco. Maybe there was something he was missing but as he looked over to Sherlock he saw the same cluelessness written on his face.

“May I?” Sherlock inquired leaning in to examine the body closer.

“Sure.” Molly said also bending over the corpse.

After a few quick glances, Sherlock took out his magnifying glass and took a closer look at the man’s face.

“Well, so far it seems rather obvious. Burst capillaries in the eyes and a bit of wool stuck inside the victim’s nose, cause of death is definitely-“

“Suffocation.” Molly finished his sentence a satisfied grin on her face. “I got that far by myself.”

“Then why have you texted me?” Sherlock demanded narrowing his eyes at her.

“A little patience, Sherlock Holmes. I wouldn’t have ordered you here if there wasn’t something else.” Molly told him staring straight back at him still a confident smile on her lips.

John had been watching this little exchange between the detective and his pathologist with wide eyes. If it hadn’t been Molly and Sherlock that were standing in front of him he would have called it flirting, but somehow that word didn’t feel right at all. But Molly was definitely teasing his best friend and against all odds Sherlock seemed to at least partly enjoy it.

“John, would you be so nice to switch off the lights?” Molly said sweetly while getting something that looked like a torchlight from her desk.

“Sure.” He replied and walked over to the light switch.

As the room was completely dark Molly switched on what turned out to be an UV light and held it close to the victim’s skin revealing some kind of pattern on the body. Sherlock immediately circled around the table to get to Molly’s side and squinted at the illuminated areas.

“See, I knew this would interest you, Sherlock.” Molly said happily.

“Interesting, very interesting indeed.” Sherlock murmured.

Being quite curious himself John had returned as well and now saw that what he had first thought to be a pattern was actually some kind of writing. He didn’t recognise the language but it seemed the whole corpse was covered in text. Molly handed Sherlock another UV light and gave hers to John.

“I take it; it’s all over his body?” Sherlock inquired.

“Yes. Right down to his toes. I have never seen this language before but I thought maybe you would know where it came from.” Molly explained leaning in close next to Sherlock looking at the strange signs.

“No language I would know of, I’d say it’s an invented code.”

Sherlock took out his little paper notebook and began copying excerpts from the text.

“We need to copy all of this and then find the underlying pattern. If this is some sort of code we might want to look at the man’s flat as well, there might be more clues to decipher this.”

He quickly moved down the man’s legs and then back to his head again.

“Oh this definitely is a promising case.” He exclaimed rubbing his hands together joyfully. “Who needs bank robbers when one has a mysterious code on a corpse? You’re brilliant, Molly Hooper.”

Even though the morgue was pretty dark Molly’s wide grin and gleaming eyes didn’t escape John and he had to smile himself as he watched the two of them busily scanning the skin of David Marhem. It was incredible how the dynamic between Sherlock and Molly had changed over the last weeks and how easily she had turned his mood 180 degrees. Sherlock didn’t order Molly around like he used to but they rather seemed like a team, easily working together, thinking at the same pace.

“See there is the same sign again. That’s now the eleventh time this one character occurred, making it the most common so far.” Sherlock remarked holding the light close to the man’s knee. “If we assume this text is written in English it’s very likely that this sign stands-“

“-for the letter E.” Molly cut in which made Sherlock turn to face her in surprise.

“How did you know that?” Sherlock wanted to know a hint of admiration in his eyes.

“Well, E is the most common letter in the English language, isn’t it?” Molly responded with a shrug. “That’s how you usually start breaking a code. You look for the most common character. I mean everybody who saw _Zodiac_ knows that, right?”

“How can you have _seen_ the Zodiac killer?” Sherlock asked a blank look on his face.

“No, it’s a film about the Zodiac killer. I quite liked it and not only because Jake Gyllenhaal was in it.” Molly explained looking a slightly dreamy for a second and then adding quickly: “I read up on the case a bit as well after seeing the film. It’s quite an interesting story and –“

But Molly was cut off by John’s mobile ringing and he pulled it out of his pocket.

“It’s Anderson. Why would he be calling?” John asked showing the phone’s screen to Sherlock for a moment.

“If they are having difficulties with locating the bank robbers after all, you can tell him I’m not interested anymore. I’ve got a far more intriguing case to take care of.” Sherlock stated looking at Molly again with a smug smirk.

“Yes, Anderson, what is the matter?”

Sherlock rolled his eyes annoyed. “That’s so typical. I wonder if we will see the day that London’s police force actually can do their work properly without any help.” He told Molly in a low voice.

“Yes, he’s here with me. We’re actually at Bart’s, Molly is here, too. There’s a new ca-“

Suddenly John’s features went from slight irritation to shock, his eyes wide with fear.

“What?! What happened exactly?”

The sudden change in John’s voice and behaviour caught Sherlock’s attention and both he and Molly watched him intently as John listened to what Anderson told him on the other end of the line.

With a “We’ll get a cab right away. Great Ormond was it, right? Ok.” John ended the call and looked at them horror written on his face.

“The arrest didn’t go as planned. The bank robbers opened fire, Greg got injured.” He breathed.

“Oh God!”

Molly’s left hand instinctively reached for Sherlock beside her while her right hand shot up to cover her mouth. She regretted her movement halfway into it and was about to pull her hand back when she felt Sherlock’s hand closing around hers. Surprised Molly froze for a moment forgetting how to breathe.

“Where are they taking him?” Sherlock inquired his voice calm and steady.

“Great Ormond Street hospital, it was the closest to the scene. Anderson didn’t really know how badly he was injured; he wasn’t there when it happened. But it didn’t sound good.”

“Shot wounds seldom are. What about the shooter?”

“Apparently he was shot by another officer; the other two robbers are in custody now. I told Anderson we’d get there as soon as possible. I’ll just really need to call Mary first.” John rambled a bit of panic in his voice.

“You call Mary and I get us a cab.” Sherlock replied.

Nodding thankfully John put his phone back to his ear dialling his wife’s number. He took a few steps away from the table and quickly explained the situation to Mary while Sherlock turned to face Molly.

“Are you ok?” He inquired quietly giving her hand a little squeeze.

In the still darkened room he could barely make out her eyes staring up at him in shock.

“Yeah, sure...” Molly answered not very convincingly.

“You don’t have to come if it’s too much.” He said a bit of worry in his voice.

“And stay here waiting for news and not knowing what’s going on?” Molly exclaimed. “No, I’m coming with you.”

“Ok, then I’ll get a cab.” Sherlock replied and with a last reassuring squeeze he let go of her hand and walked over to the door quickly. “Get your bag and I’ll meet you and John at the main entrance.”

 

 


	8. He will be fine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had this sitting on my tablet for a few days now and I thought it might be too short to post. Rereading it today I actually think it's just fine :D so here is chatper 8, a bit shorter than usual but oh well..

The cab ride to St Ormonds seemed to take forever, the three of them squashed together in the backseat. Molly's thoughts were racing. She knew that working in the justice system never had been an overly secure job but despite the fact that Sherlock, John and Greg were facing dangerous situations quite often she never had been confronted with one of her friends being shot. Of course, Sherlock had been injured while working on the Magnussen case - the exact circumstances of which were still a mystery to her - but she had not been aware of it right until he was out of danger and recovering in hospital. She had been outraged when she heard about it so late but as she was now staring out of the car's window at the grey London sky she was quite relieved about it in retrospect. Who knows what might have gone through her head when Sherlock had been fighting for his life.

But this time she was right there, she was right in the middle of it and the uncertainty and fear she was feeling was unbearable.

Taking her eyes from the passing houses she glanced at John and Sherlock sitting beside her. John was - just like she had been - staring blankly outside nervously fidgeting with his hands, while Sherlock's face was an indisguisable mask of calm and concentration, staring ahead not moving an inch, his hands resting on his knees. Molly caught herself staring at them and quickly averted her gaze. She desperately wanted to reach out and take his hand, feel his reassuring touch. She felt like she was falling and she simply needed to hold on to something, to someone. But without the darkness of the morgue her courage was completely gone, so she only glanced at his profile once more before returning to stare out the window.

What she didn't know was that Sherlock sitting so close beside her was despite his appearance less than calm and with all that was going through his mind he, too, couldn't help but glance at the pathologist next to him. His gaze rested only a little too long on her small hands clasped in her lap and he shut his eyes for a moment exhaling slowly. Why couldn't he stop thinking about her hands, about how small and delicate they were and how perfectly they seemed to fit in his. Why did those facts matter to him at all and especially now? Shouldn't he be worrying about Lestrade? Holding Molly's hand definitely wasn't going to alter the course of the detective inspector's injury, so why did it feel like the most important thing at the moment? Shaking off those unwanted thoughts he focused on the road ahead. Only three more traffic lights, one left turn and they’d be at their destination.

* * *

They found Donovan and Anderson and another police officer Molly didn't know in the waiting area. Sally seemed to be explaining something to Anderson her eyes wide with desperation while he tried to calm her, a reassuring hand on her back. When they saw the three of them walk down the corridor Anderson looked up. With a relieved smile on his face he wanted to greet them but Sally jump up from her seat and cut in first.

"What's he doing here?" she spat out staring at Sherlock fiercely. "He can't even remember Greg's name! Nobody asked you to come and gloat and don't tell me you actually care!"

Taken aback by this sudden confrontation Sherlock momentarily was lost for words. He had a million different ideas for a fitting comeback but all of them were considerably rude and even he knew that this was neither the time nor place for snide remarks. He saw the fear in her eyes so clearly, the dishevelled hair, the nervous sideway glance Anderson gave her as if he was afraid that she might break down any moment. Sherlock didn't know exactly how Lestrade had been injured but from the little he had seen since they had arrived he was sure that Donovan had somehow been involved and no matter how much of it actually was her fault she evidently blamed herself for the incident. Taking one controlled breath and putting his most sympathetic look on his face he was about to reply when to everyone's surprise Molly stepped in front of him and spoke up before he could.

"Don't you dare talk to him like that! Of course he cares. Greg's his friend," she said quietly, the severity in her voice feigning more confidence than she actually felt. "You have no idea what he did for his friends, for Greg," she continued narrowing her eyes at Sally. "Just because you don't see it, doesn't mean he's not caring."

For a moment the waiting area seemed to be devoid of all sound, the two women staring at each other while the men looked on helplessly, every one of them afraid to make the wrong move. When Anderson finally stepped up to Donovan putting a calming hand on her arm it first looked like she might kill him on the spot but then her gaze softened ever so slightly.

"Why don't we go outside for a bit? Get some fresh air, ok?" Anderson suggested leading her away towards the doors.

Motioning for the other officer to accompany her Anderson hang back for another moment and turned to face the rest of the group again.

"Sorry for that. She's just really worried. I don't even know what really happened but she somehow says it's her fault," he explained and added "I'm glad you came."

"It's okay," John answered. "It's not her fault, we're probably all a bit on edge right now. Any news yet?"

"No.  He was shot in the shoulder. The doctor said it's not life threatening but they still have to remove the bullet," Anderson said with a shrug. "I'll better look after Sally."

With Anderson gone an awkward silence fell once again and John offered to get tea to escape the situation as easily as possible. Nodding slightly and watching John walk away down the corridor Molly didn't dare to turn around and face Sherlock. After her outburst she had instantly regretted half of it, her courage failing her as soon as the words had left her mouth. She could feel his glare on the back of her head and more than ever she didn't dare to imagine what was going through his mind. She heard him move behind her, stepping closer.

"Thank you," he whispered barely audible.

Turning around gingerly she found herself face to face with the detective gazing down at her. Trying to decipher his look she stared back at him hoping to find all the answers she so desperately needed in his eyes. Not breaking eye contact for a second Sherlock cleared his throat.

"Thank you for stepping up for me like that. There are not many people that would actually defend me," he murmured a lopsided grin playing around his mouth.

"It's ok. It was nothing," she stammered blushing slightly.

"You always do that."

"Do what?"

"Pretend that you don't matter. That it's not important what you think or say," Sherlock explained shaking his head slightly. "Because you do matter, you know?"

Smiling at him warmly Molly didn't really know what to say. Maybe she didn't need to reply at all. They stood there looking at each other for a while before Sherlock suggested taking a seat; after all they could only wait for news from Greg now.

"So, getting shot in the shoulder isn't too painful is it?" Molly asked staring at her hands.

"It's not life threatening that's for sure, but I think that's not something I have to explain to you," Sherlock told her smiling at her from the side. "But I've never been shot in the shoulder. You could ask John though, he's got firsthand experience," he chuckled but stopped instantly when he saw the look on her face. "Sorry."

Seeing her still worried expression Sherlock felt another surge to simply reach out and take her hand, to show her that she wasn't alone.

"He will be alright. It's not the first time Greg got into trouble. He's tough, he will get through this."

"You used his right name," Molly exclaimed looking at him a smile on her face.

"Did I? Oh well, today is full of surprises," he said returning her smile and just like that, as if it was the most normal thing in the world he reached out and took her hand in his. "He will be fine."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just wanted to repeat that it's not life threatening, Greg will be fine ;) I would never hurt him.


End file.
